Side Story, Book 1: The Philosopher's Stone
by Magic Within Us
Summary: While Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having the adventure of a lifetime, four friends were just trying to make it through Hogwarts, something's that's not so easy when the Boy Who Lived is attracting the attention of You Know Who... Every. Single. Year. Cass, Sin, Annalee, and Mundy are in for one heck of a time, whether they like it or not. OC INSERT. NO LIKE, NO READ. BOOK 1.


**Chapter One: The Letter**

_"You're a wizard, Harry." - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_

21 June, 1991

Barking, East London

England

**Cassidy**

"Peter!" Cass Prescott fairly shrieked, running up the stairs two at a time. "Peter, give it back!"

Her brother snickered as he reached the landing ahead of her, running into his room and locking the door.

"PETER!" she screeched, and banged on the door as hard as she possibly could, ignoring Mrs. Prescott's yells to "stop it up there, whatever's going on!"

Cassidy Prescott was an eleven year old girl with shoulder length wavy sandy blonde hair, sun tanned skin, hazel eyes too large for her face, thick, dark eyebrows, an upturned nose, a small mouth, childish dimples, and a warm, genuine smile. Even if her teeth _were_ a little crooked. She was average height for her age and slender; a "pretty enough girl" as her grandmother liked to put it. And Gran didn't give out such compliments often, so it made Cass quite proud.

She was currently furious with her brother, though. The one time something exciting happened to her Peter had to go and ruin it.

Peter was one of Cass's two older brothers, the other being Malcolm, who was fifteen and whom she got on quite well with. Peter, though, was thirteen and a prat, as far as Cass was concerned.

Her brothers looked very similar in appearance and were sometimes mistaken for twins, though Mal was two years older. Both were tall and gangly, with long limbs and big hands and feet. They had brown hair cropped very short, as otherwise it grew unruly, skin a bit paler than Cass's, and small brown eyes, dark, thick eyebrows like her own, prominent though not necessarily ugly noses, large mouths full of perfectly straight teeth, much to Cass's envy, and crooked, "charming" smiles.

Peter was being anything but charming right now. He was being a prat and a thief, and Cass was _going to kick his arse if he didn't open his door this minute, so help her!_

She yelled as much, hitting it even harder. "Give me back my letter or I'll tell Mum and Dad you cut piano lessons last week!" Cass threatened in a dark tone. She could hear Peter leaning against the door on the other side, sniggering so hard he sounded breathless.

"Don't have a conniption," he jeered. "You're lying about this stupid letter anyway. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, _right_." he mocked.

"It's real!" she insisted. "It came in the post!"

Peter laughed. "There's no such thing as a school of witchcraft and wizardry, stupid."

Cass had heard enough. Not only had he stolen her letter, now Mr. Barely Scraping By in School was calling her stupid.

"MUM!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "PETER STOLE SOMETHING FROM ME AND HE WON'T GIVE IT BACK! AND LAST WEEK INSTEAD OF GOING TO PIANO-

Peter's door opened abruptly, knocking into her and she almost stumbled backwards as practically threw the letter at her, glaring. "Shut up, you little snitch! Here's your letter, now go away!" he hissed, slamming the door in her face.

Cass scowled, clutching the letter tightly, and stalked into her own room down the hall, closing her own door behind her. Her room had not changed in appearance since she had first moved into it at age three, besides a new, bigger bed and a desk as she got older. The walls were painted a sunny yellow, the bed was full of stuffed animals, and the room in general was a mess. There were two small windows letting in a little afternoon sunlight behind frilly sheer curtains, and knick knacks, clothes, old toys, and books and assorted junk were scattered all over the faded hardwood floor.

Cass carefully stepped around most of the mess, and sat down on her half made bed. The ancient mattress springs groaned in protest but she ignored them. All her attention was on the letter in her hands. She'd already picked off the official looking seal, which she intended to save, and opened the envelope. Peter had snatched it before she had a chance to take the letter out, though. With great anticipation, she unfolded it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Prescott,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

_Minerva McConagall_

Minerva McConagall

Deputy Headmistress

There was a second page behind the first.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

Cass mumbled aloud as she read, faster and faster with each new sentence. "First-year students will require... Course books... Other equipment... An owl OR a cat OR a toad... Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomstick." she read the final statement and put the two parts of the letter down, quiet for a moment. A million thoughts were running through her mind at once... but two stood out.

The first thought was: _We don't have an owl. How am I supposed to write them back?_

The second was: _I knew it was real!_

Cass jumped to her feet, grabbing the two parts of the letter, and rushed out of her room, tripping over her own feet in her hurry. "MUM!" she shrieked, taking the stairs down as quickly as she had come up them minutes earlier. "MUM! I'm a witch! I'm a witch and I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Mrs. Prescott was washing dishes in the kitchen sink, eyes fixed on the thrilling soap opera program on the living room telly. "That's nice dear- wait, _what_?!"

26 May, 1991

Claddagh, Galway Centre

Ireland

**Sinead**

Sin O'Sullivan did not plan on being awoken the day after her eleventh birthday by a strange tapping sound. She groaned and tried to muffle the sound by putting her pillow over her head. The tapping just grew louder, accompanied by a... hooting sound? She frowned in confusion and rubbed at her sleep encrusted eyes drowsily, propping herself up on skinny elbows. "What the- I'm awake, 'appy now?" she muttered, kicking off the mess of sheets on her and rolling over in her bed.

Across the room, Deirdre was still fast asleep, snoring quietly, much to Sin's envy. Her younger sister had always been the deep sleeper of the two of them. In fact, Sin was pretty sure all of Ireland could sink into the Atlantic Ocean and Deirdre would snore right on through it.

Sinead O'Sullivan sat up. She was a tall, lanky girl with stereotypical Irish red hair, currently pulled into a long, thick, messy braid that nearly reached her waist. She had a smattering of dark freckles on her face and arms that contrasted sharply against her milky pale skin. Her eyes were small and dark, and could be called beady. They always had a certain gleam to them. Her features were sharp and angular. She had thin, pale eyebrows that seemed to fade away into her fair skin, and had obviously not yet grown into her height. She was skin and bones, shoulders, elbows, and knees all jutting out. Her mouth was a little wide for her face and all in all she was considered plain looking and a little rough, but Sin was never one to care what others thought.

Right now all she cared about was figuring out what had woken her up. The strange sounds seemed to be coming from the shuttered window in the dark room. Sin shambled over to it, still half asleep, and opened the window, throwing open the shutters. It was an owl, flapping its wings, a letter in its mouth. It dropped the letter on her and took off into the early morning sky.

She winced at the bright sunlight coming in and slammed the shutters shut. She turned on her bedside lamp instead and sat down on the windowsill, straining her eyes to look at the envelope.

_Miss S. O'Sullivan_

_The Smallest Bedroom_

_15 Grady Lane_

_Claddagh, Galway_

It read in green ink. The penmanship was very nice.

Sin was confused. She'd never received a letter from a bird before, which she was starting to realize was very strange indeed. She cracked the red wax seal, which seemed like something out of a film set in the 1800s, and opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell into her lap, and Sin briefly skimmed both of them, eyes narrowing.

This was very, very strange, because according to this letter, she was a witch, and she had been accepted into a school she didn't recall ever hearing about. Clearly, this lack of information was someone's fault, and Sin had a good idea who.

"..._Da_."

She stomped out of her room, not caring that she had finally woken up Deirdre, who whined something and burrowed under her covers.

"DA!" Sin hollered. "DA! EDAN O'SULLIVAN, GET OUT 'ERE AN' EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I JUST GOT A LETTER FROM AN _OWL_ TELLIN' ME I'M A WITCH!"

From his position on the couch Mr. O'Sullivan muttered something that sounded a few curses in Gaelic, and without opening his eyes, rolled over to face his irate daughter. " 'Bout that..." he mumbled something very quietly.

"What?!" she asked impatiently.

Mr. O'Sullivan coughed and spoke a little clearer. "Yer mam's a witch."

Sin was not amused. She wanted to hear answers, not insults aimed at her mother, no matter how true they were. "Da!" she snapped.

Her father sighed a little, eyes still closed. "I'm not sayin' it as an insult. Yer mam's a witch. She's got a wand an' a broom an' everythin'. That's the school she went to." He gestured blindly in the direction of the letter gripped in her hand.

She stared at her father for a moment. There was silence. And then...

"AN' YE DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME THIS 'TIL NOW?!"

19 February, 1991

Belhaven, East Lothian

Scotland

**Annalee**

Annalee Fairbairn was beginning to give up hope as the sun sank below the horizon once more. Her eleventh birthday had been three days ago, and she hadn't gotten the letter she was expecting yet. She knew it would come; it had to. Just last week she'd made a jar of jam explode while arguing with her father.

If that wasn't a sign of a powerful witch Annalee didn't know what was.

Annalee Fairbairn was on the shorter side for an eleven year old, though not small enough to be called petite or tiny. No, she was simply a little shorter than most her age. People paid more attention to her eyes than her height anyways. She had pretty, clear blue eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. They were set back in her face, which meant they looked rather shadowed and hollow a lot, which Annalee liked to think added to the intrigue. Her skin was rather pale, almost unhealthily so, but she had grown up in the state of Alaska, which didn't get a whole lot of sunshine. She had dark brown, nearly black hair that reached mid back, and was usually in a perfect, high ponytail. The bangs that covered her forehead were perfectly straight and evenly cut. She looked older than eleven, and was sometimes mistaken for twelve or thirteen, rather than someone who hadn't even started secondary school yet. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched and always seemed to be hovering over her eyes, as if she was constantly raising them. Her nose was a bit long but not too obviously so. All in all, she was often told she should act or model, to which Annalee would assume a look of utter bafflement and modesty and blush shyly.

Here's a secret: Annalee was far from modest.

She wasn't arrogant, per say, just thought rather highly of herself; after all, her mother was _the _Loralie Brooks, the American actress. She'd inherited her mother's looks and talent for coming off as well, an angel.

This angel desperately wanted to practice witchcraft. All she needed was a letter.

But there was no sign of an owl in the darkening sky, and so Annalee got up from her position by the window where she'd been anxiously keeping vigil, and went in search of her father. "Dad?" she called out, trailing down the darkened halls of the small cottage she and her parents were currently occupying. Mr. Fairbarn had grown up here, in Belhaven, and she had been born in Scotland. Until the previous month, however, Annalee had been living in Anchorage with her grandparents, as her mother, who had never changed her last name to that of her husband's, often traveled for work, and her father had a Ministry job, which meant he still lived in Scotland but visited a few times a month. The situation was by no means normal, but it was all she'd ever known.

But if she was going to go to Hogwarts, it made sense to be living in the United Kingdom, even if that meant completely uprooting herself and moving from a big city to a tiny village. Oh, no, Annalee wasn't bitter at _all_.She missed her mom. Ms. Brooks was more like a big sister to her daughter, taking her to movie sets occasionally and to Los Angeles and New York during the summer. She'd even spent one winter break in Miami with her mother when she was filming for a television series. And now she was staying with her father, who was grim and serious and strict, and so unlike her mother she figured he must have put some sort of enchantment on her to get her to marry him. Her mother would still come around of course; her parents were so lovey-dovey it was sickening. Ms. Brooks tried to be around her husband and daughter as much as her tight schedule would allow.

How else could some emotionless Scottish dude have gotten together with her vibrant, beautiful mother? If anyone was Beauty and the Beast, it was her parents.

She walked into the kitchen, to find her father sitting at the table. "Dad? There you are." Annalee sunk into a chair beside him, folding her arms over her chest moodily. "I can't believe I still haven't gotten my letter. This is complete bunk." She sighed and blew out her bangs.

"Weel, ah may have received somethin' in th' post a wee bit ago…" Mr. Fairbairn drawled slowly.

It took Annalee a second to comprehend his Scottish accent, as always. Then her blue eyes lit up. "Dad!" she squealed, and wrenched the envelope in his hand away from him, practically tore it off the letter, not even bothering to read what was written on it, and focused on what was written there and there alone.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Fairbairn,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

_Minerva McConagall_

Minerva McConagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Finally!" Annalee crowed.

24 March, 1991

Near Ogmore-by-Sea, Vale of Glamorgan

Wales

**Rosamund**

Mundy Blackwell really, really hated being the middle child sometimes. Her older sister, Fee, who was, to hear her parents tell it, the toast of Ravenclaw house and a prefect on her way to becoming Head Girl, and of course _oh so popular_ with her little school mates… And her younger brother, Quin, was _adorable_, of course. As far as Mundy was concerned, Quin was far past the age of adorableness. He was nine, and the most sarcastic child one would ever meet outside of muggle television programs.

But right now, well, the attention was all on her, mousy little Mundy. She'd just gotten her letter to Hogwarts.

Rosamund Blackwell was tiny. Almost everyone towered over her. Quin was the same height as her, and he was two years younger. She was a round little thing, with childish, chubby cheeks. She had just lost the last of her baby teeth, and there were two noticeable gaps in her bright smile where the adult one had not yet grown in. Mundy wasn't chubby, but she wasn't thin either. She was simply average. It didn't stop Quin from making oinking sounds whenever Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell weren't listening, though. Mundy had short, curly light brown hair and hazel eyes magnified by her large glasses, which were always sliding around on her snubbed nose. She had a few very pale freckles on her face, and her skin wasn't tanned or pale, but somewhere in between. She had an extremely cheerful smile, though, which seemed to light up her whole face like a Christmas tree. It was her one redeeming feature, she thought glumly, in her own mind.

"Well," Mrs. Blackwell urged. "Go on, open it, Rosamund!"

The whole family was gathered around her in the living room. She sat in the exact center of the couch, her parents on either side of her, and Quin moodily slumped in an arm chair nearby. Even Fee was there, through the Floo Network, though only her head was present. She'd simply stuck her head into the fire in the Ravenclaw Common Room to visit with the rest of the family.

Mundy paused a moment, savoring being the center of attention for once. After today, thing would go back to normal. But for right now, she was the important one.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, reading out loud slowly. "Hogwarts School _of_Witchcraft _and_ Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards…"

Quin groaned. "Hurry up with it already, Mousy.'

Mundy sent him a look of regal disdain, like a queen on her throne.

"Oh, hush," Mr. Blackwell said impatiently.

Quin looked outraged at being scolded for once.

Mentally, she rejoiced at this comeuppance, before continuing. "Dear Miss Blackwell, we are pleased to inform you…that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" she finished in an exclamation, looking up triumphantly.

Her parents descended upon her in a swarm of congratulations, hugs, and kisses.

Fee smiled from the fireplace. 'There was no question about it, really. Of course you're a witch, Rosamund, you're a Blackwell."

"Of course," mumbled Mundy.

Quin scowled. "Well, I guess that means you're not a squib, just an exceptionally bad witch."

"And what have you done, made a teacup shudder?" she retorted.

Quin was short and scrawny, with a pinched face sprinkled liberally with freckles and wide hazel eyes. His hair was short and tended to stick up, and he had the same hazel eyes with Mundy, except that his had "pretty" gold flecks. He had prominent cheek bones, his small ears stuck out a little, and his face was sharp and angular, unlike his sister's. His noise was pointy. His eyebrows were short and bristly. His eyes were slightly sunken into his face and his forehead was wide because none of his hair covered it. He was still losing baby teeth and barely smiled. Most of the time, he sneered or scowled.

The ensuing argument was short lived, because Fee suddenly had to say her goodbyes, she had a class to get to, and everyone was distracted by that.

Then things were back to normal, and the letter was tucked away in Mundy's pocket. She wanted to read it again, by herself, that night. Just so she could dream of when she would be going off to Hogwarts, and her annoying little brother would never dare call her a bad witch again.

**Hi there, guys. Well, it's been a while. I'm not gonna hold myself to any standards with this one, and I'll write it for as long as it's fun for me. This chapter took about a week, and was really fun to write. I know there's a lot of stories like this one out there, but hopefully this will make you grin a little. It's gonna be a wild ride, folks. **


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